


Interlude

by GreyMichaela



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/F, Face-Sitting, Phasma's in love, Rough Sex, Shower Sex, Sparring, Vaginal Fingering, aka foreplay, but she won't admit it, in which I write my first F/F porn and I think it went... well?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5802151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/pseuds/GreyMichaela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phasma is an exemplary soldier, training her recruits to the highest standards and demanding nothing but perfection. But she knows as well as anyone that physical needs must be met occasionally.</p><p>Enter the bounty hunter who knows how to flip every one of Phasma's switches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miniatures](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/gifts).



> So I wrote this for my beta/bestie Aaliya, after accidentally melting her brain by musing on how hot it would be if a bounty hunter played by Natalie Dormer was into rough, aggressive, this-means-nothing sex with Captain Phasma.
> 
> Finn is still a cadet, not yet graduated to full-fledged stormtrooper in this. 
> 
> Shae Vizla was a real bounty hunter in the Star Wars 'verse but she was born a long, long time prior, so for the sake of coherency, let's call this Shae Vizla her descendant who decided to carry on the proud family tradition of being a bounty hunter. Shh, just let it happen.

_*Captain, Shae Vizla’s ship has docked.*_

Phasma acknowledged the transmission without moving, hands clasped behind her back as she watched the cadets sparring in front of her on the mats. Still, her skin tingled with anticipation and it took her a minute to realize that the cadets nearest to her were leaning away, their postures tense, and she had to force herself to relax, spreading her feet and settling back into parade rest.

Vizla would report to General Hux. If her intel was actionable, she’d also need to speak to Kylo Ren before debriefing Phasma.

In the meantime, Phasma had recruits to train.

“FN-2199,” she snapped, and the young man jerked his head up, coming to attention automatically. “Relieve FN-2003. Perhaps you can show him how to properly execute a takedown sweep.”

FN-2199 saluted and took FN-2003’s place, squaring off against FN-2187, who was visibly tired, beads of sweat on his face and staining his shirt in dark patches. Still, he sank easily into the defensive stance, fists coming up as they began to circle each other.

2199 feinted and 2187 tilted his shoulders just enough to let the punch slide by, hammering a quick uppercut into 2199’s ribs as he slithered under his guard but not following through as 2199 staggered backward, out of breath.

Phasma repressed an irritated growl. FN-2187 was far and away one of the most promising recruits she’d ever trained, if she could just break him of his tendency toward empathy.

“ _Feet_ ,” she barked. “Watch your footwork, FN-2199, you’re already getting sloppy and FN-2187’s fought three other cadets before you.”

2199 tucked his chin and charged. Phasma rolled her eyes before he’d made it two feet, and sure enough, 2187 danced to the side and took 2199 to the mats in a smooth, controlled fall, riding him down and landing a neat one-two combination to 2199’s stomach.

“On your feet, both of you,” she said, and they scrambled upright, chests heaving. “FN-2199, what did you do wrong?”

The recruit’s breath was choppy and he was hunched over his ribs in a way that suggested FN-2187 had cracked them. Good. Maybe a little pain would teach him to be more careful.

“I—” FN-2199 stopped to cough wetly. “I telegraphed, Captain.”

“Yes, you did.” Subtle changes in the air and fabric rustling at the door announced another person’s presence but Phasma didn’t turn. “Next time, don’t tell your opponent you’re coming. Vizla, perhaps you’d like to demonstrate?”

Vizla snorted a laugh, pulling off her helmet and stepping into the room as the recruits’ eyes widened. “Not sure who you want me to fight, Captain—it wouldn’t exactly be a fair contest. Even your best recruit there isn’t a match for me.”

Phasma met her eyes. “I wasn’t thinking of a recruit.”

Vizla arched a dark red eyebrow, her hazel eyes amused. “You’ve got six inches on me, Captain, not to mention you outweigh me by at least forty pounds, all muscle. What’s my incentive?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Phasma murmured, taking the gloves from FN-2187 and strapping them into place. “I forgot, you bounty hunters never do anything without looking out for number one, do you?”

Vizla lifted a slim shoulder, the motion graceful even under her armor. “Never really seen the point,” she said carelessly.

“Bragging rights,” Phasma suggested, bouncing on her toes and swinging her arms to loosen them up. “You can tell anyone who’ll listen that you bested _the_ Captain Phasma in hand-to-hand combat. My cadets need to see what they’re actually capable of, if they train hard enough.”

“That and a hundred mark credit on my account, and you’re on.”

“Done,” Phasma said. Hux would approve it.

Vizla grinned, bright and feral, and began pulling her armor off, setting the pieces in a neat pile by the door as the recruits moved back to give them room.

The air seemed clearer, sharper, and Phasma could feel the blood pumping harder in her veins, beating a staccato rhythm in her ears as she waited.

Vizla’s dark red hair was pulled back in a neat club, tied down to avoid it being used against her, and she stripped methodically, revealing a skintight bodysuit beneath her armor.

Phasma pointed at the recruit about to shift his weight behind and to her left without looking. “No moving,” she ordered. “Stand at attention and watch. I will expect reports after.”

Vizla stepped onto the mats barefoot, rolling her shoulders and popping her neck, looking for all the world as if she was ready to take a nap. Phasma wasn’t fooled. She’d seen Vizla take down an attacking thyrsl on Yavin 4 without turning a hair. She was fast and she was strong, and more importantly, she was utterly ruthless.

They faced each other and bowed briefly, and Vizla was in motion before Phasma was upright, a blur of speed as she launched herself forward in a long, low dive. Phasma twisted hard right, just barely avoiding Vizla’s jab and taking a glancing blow on the shoulder.

Vizla skidded to a stop and spun, her eyes sharp. She moved like the hunting cats Phasma had seen on Jakku, indolent and graceful, concealing death beneath velvet skin.

Phasma bared her teeth and lunged.

The fight fragmented into sharp reflections and frozen moments—a fist connecting with her jaw and snapping her head around, tasting blood in her mouth. The blade of a hand narrowly missing her nose. Hooking her foot around Vizla’s knee and yanking her forward, Vizla lithe and twisting in her grip as they went to the floor together.

They grappled, sweat making it difficult to keep a grip, and Phasma snarled in victory as she caught Vizla’s ankle and hurled herself backward, hyper-extending it just as she felt Vizla do the same thing to her, fingers like iron bands around Phasma’s foot, threatening to snap the small bones with the barest amount of pressure.

Silence fell as they both froze and then let go at the same time, springing apart and scrambling to their feet.

Vizla’s hair was coming out of its neat club, sticking to her delicate face in wispy tendrils, her chest heaving as she stared at Phasma.

“Call it a draw,” Phasma said. “Recruits, you are dismissed. Showers and then to mess.”

Vizla startled, visibly pulling herself together as the cadets filed out of the room, talking in low whispers.

When they were alone, Phasma caught the edge of the glove in her teeth and pulled it off, dropping the other beside it. “I’m going to shower,” she said, and brushed past.

 

The communal bathrooms were empty and Phasma turned the hot water on full, filling the room with steam as she stripped and left her sweaty clothes in a sodden pile by the door.

Naked, she stepped under the spray, tilting her head back and closing her eyes as the almost scalding water cascaded over her, soothing abused muscles. The door creaked open behind her and then cycled to the locked position and Phasma smiled to herself without moving.

Arms came around her waist and Vizla pressed herself up against Phasma’s back, biting down on her shoulder, not gently.

Phasma hissed and spun. Vizla arched a mocking brow and Phasma growled and lunged, their mouths coming together hot and wet and hungry, teeth clicking and tongues sliding together, and Phasma stooped and picked Vizla up, slamming her up against the wall.

She was rewarded with a faint gasp as Vizla locked her legs around Phasma’s hips and ground against her stomach, breathing in sharp pants into Phasma’s mouth, nipping at her lips, pushing and claiming.

Phasma pushed her harder against the wall, licking inside her mouth and freeing one hand to find one of Vizla’s nipples, pinching hard. Vizla’s back arched and her head hit the wall as she broke the kiss to moan, slapping Phasma’s hand away and diving back in to kiss her again.

Phasma laughed into her mouth, low and triumphant, her hand skimming lower. “I could’ve had you a dozen times,” she whispered, snaking her hand between them and down, slipping two fingers inside her heat.

Vizla tightened her legs and bit Phasma’s chin. “You think I couldn’t have? Ah, just like that—” Her core tightened around Phasma’s seeking fingers and she ground down against her hand, gasping through her orgasm as her hair curled damply around her face and Phasma thought dimly that she’d never seen anything so beautiful.

She squashed the thought quickly, though, her fingers still busy. Emotion was weakness. It was to be banished whenever it presented itself. This—this was purely about physical release.

Vizla was already shuddering again, teeth white against her reddened lip as her head hit the wall again and she whimpered, soft and needy.

Phasma drove deeper, finding the bundle of nerves on Vizla’s inner wall and drumming it with brutal efficiency.

Vizla wailed as she came again, the climax rippling through her core as Phasma drew it from her with quick, practiced movements.

Finally she sagged in Phasma’s grip, her head lolling forward.

“Oh no,” Phasma said, letting her slide to the floor and following her down to straddle her ribs. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

Vizla’s hands were a little unsteady but she pulled weakly until Phasma slid forward, sitting on Vizla’s chest.

 _Physical release_ , Phasma reminded herself. It had nothing to do with hazel eyes and a pointed chin, sharp white teeth that could draw blood and hands and mouth that knew exactly how to touch her.

A very small part of herself knew that she wasn’t going to be able to keep lying to herself much longer, but then Vizla lifted her head and parted Phasma’s folds with her tongue and Phasma forgot how to think.


End file.
